You Beat Me To The Punch
by RaeEssie
Summary: AU. "There was only one woman he wanted to dance with, but she barely knew he existed. No. That was a lie. She knew he existed, she just didn't seem to care."
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** Glee's not mine and neither are the songs mentioned.

Sorry about any mistakes, it's late!

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**You Beat Me To The Punch**

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"_That day, I first saw you,whoa whoa, passing by_

_I wanted to know your name but I was just too shy_

_But I was looking at you so hard_

_Until you must have had a hunch"_

-Mary Wells-

**.**

Ma Evans was most likely rolling in her grave. Sam didn't want to think of the beating she was sure to give him if she'd been alive to see him in such a place. He didn't particularly mind. His grandmother had never been a tolerant woman. She had something to say about everyone. If you weren't colored, then you were either from the country, a non-catholic or a democrat which she considered just as bad. Still, he couldn't help but wonder what she'd say about this club. Sure, two years had passed since those ridiculous segregation laws had been repealed, but there was still some tension. He wasn't a fool, he knew there was still a long way to go but it was an improvement. _Miss Mama_'s was a club owned by a black man. Up until two years ago, only black folk, with the exception of a few tolerant white people, spent their evenings there. Even now, the majority of clients were colored. _Miss Mama_'s had kept it's old feel, refusing to play any records and relying solely on the talent of live bands who played songs ranging from blues to rock and roll. Sam loved it.

The club was packed and he completely understood why. The band was a good one, taking requests from anyone. The dance floor was full too, and he watched with amusement as a couple of guys made a spectacle of themselves, dancing like drunken fools and occasionally falling.

When Noah insisted Sam spend the evening out with the boys, he hadn't questioned it. Being new in Lima meant having to do everything you could to force yourself in the community, to show you deserved to be a part of them. He hoped spending the evening at _Miss Mama_'s with the boys would give him the opportunity to show just how cool he was. That planned failed miserably. The moment they had set foot in the club, they'd been separated. The boys found pretty girls to dance with, and Sam was left alone at the bar, forgotten.

A few girls asked him to dance. They'd all been very pretty, gorgeous even. He'd said no to each of them. There was only one woman he wanted to dance with, but she barely knew he existed. No. That was a lie. She knew he existed, she just didn't seem to care. Sam had first seen her at the university, walking on campus with an asian girl and a very loud latina. He had stared. Hard. And she had caught him. She'd arched a brow as if daring him to make some kind of comment.

After, he'd seen her plenty more times on campus looking as beautiful as she did the first time he had seen her. He stared. He couldn't help himself, and she caught him every time. Sam hadn't been very subtle with his attraction for her. He'd asked about her often, hoping that someone would help him meet her. There was something intimidating about her, that he couldn't quite understand. If it were any other girl, he'd have been flirting and laying down the charm a long time ago. But not with this girl. He felt inadequate, like a peasant crushing on a princess.

Noah knew her, but hadn't been very forthcoming with information. All Sam knew was that her name was Mercy Jones and that she had the voice of an angel, or so Noah said. His eyes searched the club until they rested on her. She was a sight for sore eyes. Curves in all the right places, and dark flawless skin. If Ma Evans could hear his thoughts about the black woman, she'd most likely set herself on fire. Again, he didn't mind. He was most likely going to hell anyway, as there was no way his thoughts hadn't been sinful and he'd be damned if he wasn't going to experience any of them -christian or not. Ma Evans or not, he was getting his lady. Besides, it wasn't his fault she wasn't tolerant.

Sam watched as she left her friends and sat on a stool at the other end of the bar. He was staring again. He knew it, and so did she, because she met his gaze and rolled her eyes. It shouldn't have amused him as much as it did. Now was the moment. She was alone for once, and she knew he was there. If he let the opportunity slide now, he'd forever be 'the coward'. Taking all the courage he had, he strolled over to her, hoping he showed confidence rather than the nervousness he felt.

"Not interested." she said, the moment he reached her not even bothering to glance at him.

"Pardon?" God, this was harder than he thought.

"You're here to talk to me, right?" she signaled the bartender. "Not interested." Sam wasn't one to walk away from a challenge, especially not one as delightful as her. Much to her surprise, he took the seat next to her and ordered a himself a drink, after her. Mercy didn't pay him the slightest bit of attention as she drowned her martini. Then, she took out a cigarette packet from her dress pocket. He nearly laughed at that. She didn't look like a smoker. Then again neither did he, but he smoked on occasion. Who didn't?

"Can I bum a smoke?" he asked as she toyed with the slim white stick. She rolled her eyes and handed him the cigarette and her lighter. "Now, why's a pretty little thing like you smokin'? They say it's not good for the health."

Mercedes rolled her eyes. "Says the man who just lit himself a fag. I don't usually smoke. The stress brings out the devil in all of us."

"Do I stress you out then?" he asked, teasingly. But he pulled an ashtray that was on the counter closer to him and put out the cigarette before tucking it behind his ear.

"Don't flatter yourself, sweetheart." her voice was stern, but he could see the amusement dancing in her eyes when she turned to look at him. "So what bring a man like you in a place like this?"

"They say it's the funnest joint in town, and my bud wanted to prove it." He was slowly but surely getting comfortable. As intimidating as she was, something about her was comforting.

"Who's your friend, then?" she asked skeptically.

"Noah Puckerman, he's..." Sam scanned the room, hoping to catch a glimpse of his good friend, but Mercy waved a hand dismissively.

"I know Puck. He's a bad ass with a heart made of marshmallows." she smiled fondly at the thought of him, and Sam felt a pang of jealousy. He shouldn't have felt it, after all she was a stranger. But he couldn't help it."So, you're Sam Evans. The cowboy from Tennessee."

"Guilty, but I ain't no cowboy. I lived in Memphis." he sent her his best smile, only to be met with an icy stare. Even upset, she managed to be the most beautiful girl he'd ever laid eyes on.

"To which I repeat my question: what's a man like you doing in place like this."

"Just tryin' to have a blast. I'm not here for trouble." he replied sincerely.

"So why aren't you dancing then? Plenty of girls would be willing." She jerked her head towards a group of girls that hung near the stage, anxious for someone to ask them for a dance.

"Maybe the one I want isn't."

Her eyes widened at that, as though she hadn't expected him to be so direct. He couldn't blame her. He'd spent the last few weeks staring at her from a far like some fool.

"Look, you seem like a nice guy, but like I said, I'm not interested."

"I find that really hard to believe." came his easy reply.

"Because you have that southern charm that make women fall at your feet?"

"There's that," he grinned when she rolled her eyes and continued. "And I'm pretty sure you would have sent me on my way if you really wanted me gone."

"I told you to leave plenty of times already," she pointed out.

"Please, we both know you'd have me sittin' on my ass outside if I annoyed you that much. People keep an eye on you, just in case I cause trouble. They'd kick me out without a second thought and you'd help."

"Well you aren't wrong."

"All I want is a dance. Just a dance." he sent her what he hoped was a charming smile and held out a hand. "If you don't enjoy yourself, I won't bother you again."

She hesitated, her eyes searching his for a moment, looking for some type of insincerity. He almost gave up altogether,, taking her lack of response for a rejection. But then, Mercy lay her hand in his. Her smile was slow. She probably hadn't meant to be seductive, yet Sam would be the first to assure her she was."Fine. Fair warning: I'm not easily pleased, Mr. Evans."

He had to chuckle at that. Most women he knew were all show and no go. They were quick to tell him one thing, but when the time came to prove themselves they couldn't. Sam wanted a challenge. A woman who could thrill and inspire him. A woman who wasn't afraid to be herself. Something told him this woman meant every word she said. She'd be easy to befriend, but she'd be the type of woman who took care and consideration when picking a lover or rather, a beau. She wasn't innocent, he could tell that from the way she moved and the way she spoke. There was something sultry about it, something no innocent woman he had ever met managed to have. He knew that if he managed to have her body for a night, that wouldn't mean he had her heart, and there lay the prize, right? The heart of a woman meant more than a thousand busy nights, because with her heart you could have all that and more. Though he would never be as stupid as to claim he'd refuse going home with her. No, he wanted _that_ he just wasn't certain he'd be satisfied.

If Mercedes could hear Sam's thoughts, she would agree without a moment's hesitation. She liked men. She liked the feel of their arms around her, their smell, even the height difference that made her feel protected by them, even though she wasn't one to let other's fight her battles. She loved a man's honest opinion because no matter what anyone said, men and women did not view the world the same way. Their input helped broaden her own beliefs and opinions. Mercedes could be friends with anyone, and prided herself for it. But when it came to love, well, things were more complicated. No one wanted a woman like her. They had problems with her skin tone, her weight or her care-free attitude. No. Mercedes Jones was fit as a friend, and a friend only. Of course, there had been a few people that came sniffing around her house, begging for a date. In some rare occasions, she'd spent a cold night with them even though none had been worth a second of her time. They had hoped to change her, to use her until someone better came along or simply put, she was a fetish. One thing was common with everyone she met: she wasn't fit to be anyone's wife. And so if heartbreak was inevitable, Mercedes wanted to be certain it was worth it.

With her hand gripped tightly in Sam's, she slid of the stool and let him lead her to the dance floor. He was handsome alright, just like Santana had forced her to admit he was. Tall, with broad shoulders and arms she was certain could lift a horse. And that ass, let's not go there. Ignoring him was harder than she had expected. Every time she caught his eye, she'd feel her knees weaken, and her heart pound against her chest. But she wasn't stupid. She'd learned a long time ago that men like him didn't go for girls like her, not for serious relationships. He was just another heartbreak waiting to happen. Yet he insisted, and after much debating, she decided to give him a chance.

"Jeff!" yelled Mercedes over the noise. When the piano player caught her eye, she called out again. "Tutti Frutti!"

Much to Sam's confusion Jeff gave her a thumbs up and a slight nod. Within second's the band had slipped into an energetic cover of Little Richard's _Tutti Frutti_. She could move. He would never admit it to her, but he had trouble keeping up. Mercedes had noticed quickly enough that Sam Evans wasn't the best dancer in the club, but what he lacked in talent he made up for in energy. She had to admire that. What was supposed to be one dance turned into two and eventually five. He was fun. Funner than most men she danced with. In fact, she hadn't stopped laughing and smiling since she stepped foot on the dance floor.

Mercedes would have returned to her stool when she heard the slower tempo of the next song, but in Sam gently tugged her hand, pulling her closer to him.

"You already had more than one dance." she said softly as he rested one hand on her hip.

"I said I'd leave you alone if you didn't enjoy yourself. You did. I'm not letting you go that easily." he smiled down at her. Mercedes put one hand on his shoulder, the other still clasped tightly in his larger one. His eyes never left hers as she sang along to the song absently.

"_Whenever you came around,my heart would pound, so you must have had a hunch_."

"The lyrics are fitting, don't you think?" he asked. Sam lifted his left arm slightly to her right, guiding her into a twirl.

"For that to be true, I'd have to be attracted to you." she said lightly, as he guided her into an other twirl, only this time he pulled her against him before she could complete her turn.

"And you aren't?" He asked, his lips skimming her earlobe.

"Not at all." she was lying, of course. Just the faint feel of his lips touching her sent thrills up her spine. He seemed not to believe her words, as she felt him press a light kiss in the curve of her neck before letting her complete the turn. Once she was facing him again, she smiled, amused. "okay. Maybe you're cute." They danced a while longer. Somehow there was something intimate about their dance even though they weren't as close as some couples.

"Do you think I could take you out to supper one day?" he asked after a while.

Mercedes laughed and shook her head. "Not likely."

"Why's that?" he asked, in a tone he hoped didn't betray the slight hurt he felt.

"You don't want me, Sam. Trust me, you're better off with someone else."

"It's just supper. We could be friends." he said easily.

"We both know that's not just what you want." she smiled sadly when he pulled her closer to him, pressing her against his hard chest. "Besides, I already have too many friends. I wouldn't have the time to treat you right." Something about the way she spoke made him feel uncomfortable. He knew she was trying to tease him, but behind that he swore he could hear a touch of seriousness and sadness.

"What about you?" he asked. "Does anyone treat you right?"

She knew he wasn't asking about her friendships. It was more than that. He had picked up on her sadness, something most people couldn't do.

"I think that's enough for now." said Mercedes, smiling tightly. "Thanks for the dances and the drink, but I better be heading off." Oh, she was fast. Mercedes was out of his arms and out of the club in a flash. By the time he reached left the building and reached the parking lot she was gone. She'd left him alone, confused but certain of one thing: he wanted to see her again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** Nothing's mine. Y'all know the drill.

**Note: **Dear Lord. I never expected so many alerts and favorites. Because of the positive response, this is no longer a two-shot. Thanks so much for your reviews and everything. You're all incredibly kind. xx

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**Chapter ****2**

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It took some convincing, some bribing, some more convincing and eventually three dollars before Noah rattled off Mercy's address. Sam had chosen to wait until one o'clock before driving to her house, as she was most likely in church and out for lunch before that. There was also the fact that he had been in church as well, although he'd felt awful guilty. Surely there was a rule against sitting in the house of the Lord with one's mind filled of romance. If he hadn't reserved his place in hell before, he had that morning.

Mercy's house was small. A yellow box on a narrow stamp of lamp. It was a cute house, nothing very extravagant which he wasn't ashamed to say surprised him. He had expected something that stood out more, like her ride. In the driveway parked in front of her garage was a lime green Microbus. On it were multi-colored painted hand-prints, peace signs, flowers and a collection of words such as 'love, peace, femme, fierce and phenomenal'. The sight made him smile. From what he knew, she had the fun loving soul of a hippie and the class of Jackie O.

His own style lacked the energy she had. He opted for jeans and clean shirts. Simple outfits, that let him blend in with a crowd. Sam didn't want the trouble he was sure to have if he came home dressed like a tie-dye wearing flower child. His parents were far more forgiving than Ma Evans, but they had drawn the line at peace and love. Of course, that didn't mean Sam hadn't snuck out on occasion to share a joint with a few friends, not that he'd ever admit it to his parents.

The walk from his 1965 Corvette Roadster to her front door was short one, but in that time, a thousand ill-meaning thoughts managed to fill his mind. He couldn't help but wonder if he was making a fool of himself. What if she didn't want to see him? But he remembered the way she had laughed and smiled last night, and it helped soothe his nerves. He laughed as he passed the bus and noticed the "_if the van's rockin don't come knockin_" sticker on the bumper.

He knocked on her door twice, and within seconds, he was face to face with her. Mercy. Even in dirty overalls she was beautiful. She didn't seem particularly inviting, as though he had caused an unwanted interruption. Judging by the splatter of paint on her clothes and face, that's just what he had done. She didn't smile, but rolled her eyes. He'd noticed it was a habit of hers.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, leaning against the doorway.

"I just wanted to see if you were feelin' alright. You left quickly." Sam grinned, though he felt quite nervous. Standing on her doorstep wasn't the same as chatting in a crowed club.

"I'm fine," Mercy answered, brows raised. "Was that all?" She wasn't going to make this easy for him, a fact that was both amusing and frustrating. That certainly wasn't all he wanted from her, but he chose not to answer that question because nothing he had to say was appropriate for a woman's ears.

"That mean machine, there," she said pointing towards his car. "She's yours?"

He nodded and earned a grimace. "You don't like Corvettes?"

"I love 'em as much as the next chick." she replied. "But it doesn't suit you."

Her answer surprised him and he glanced at his car. She was a beaut; all shiny and without a single scratch. It was one of his most prized possessions, not because it held any sentimental value but because she made him someone. All the chicks wanted a man with a ride, how else could you drive them to the lake for some good ole neckin'? They didn't just want cars, they want flashy ones. As silly as it sounded, his ride was the reason he had ever had some kind of social life.

"What are you doing?" he asked instead. "I know I interrupted you."

"I was painting." she answered. "My church asked me to paint huge sign for the annual community picnic in a few weeks. It's dumb, you know? I can't paint. Jane Matthews can, why didn't they ask her? They made her bake. Jane Matthews' baking is sure to send us all to the hospital. I don't understand why didn't make me bake and her cook. That would have made more sense. And I'm babbling aren't I?"

Sam chuckled and nodded. "Yeah, but I like it." he smiled down at her, and slipped his hand into his pockets. He hadn't expected the brilliant smile he got into return and the surprise that flashed in her eyes. It made him wonder how many people made her feel like a fool for speaking her mind.

"Do you want to come in?" she asked, opening her door wider. "You can watch me paint, tell me all about your handsome self."

"How about I help you instead? I'm pretty good with a brush."

"Your clothes..." she frowned as he stepped inside.

"They can take a little paint." Again, he saw surprise cross her face. Sam chose to add that to the list of the many things he wanted to learn about her. What was she hiding? The more time he spent with her, the more she interested him.

Time passed quickly with Sam Evans. He was funny in a dorkish way that made her laugh. On more than one occasion, he had surprised her by imitating a range of characters and celebrities. She'd laughed the most at his Marilyn Monroe impression. He was so big and manly, just hearing such a soft feminine voice escape his lips and sent her into a laughing fit.

As he helped her paint the giant sign, in her backyard, he told her of his life in Tennessee and his family. Mercedes could admit that they seemed like a lively and kind bunch, but she was still somewhat skeptical. While Sam was the first southerner she had ever met, she wasn't unaware of what happened in the south. She read the newspapers, watched the news on the tube and listened to the gossip. Being colored meant you had to keep up with these things, as your life depended on it. Mercedes wondered what his family would think of their handsome son spending his Sunday afternoon with someone like her.

They hadn't dwelt too much on the topic of family, and Mercedes was grateful. Instead they spoke of the university and their personalities. She found that while they didn't seem to be the type of people to have anything in common, they did. She told him about her housemates and best friends Santana and Tina, and the crazy adventures they shared. Speaking to Sam was easy, as though they had known each other for years and unlike most men, he seemed genuinely interested in what she had to say.

Mercedes had been right. If there was one thing she could always trust, it was her gut. He _was_ just another heartbreak waiting to happen, but wasn't like the others. Sam had a way about him that made her want to trust him. After just one night and an afternoon, she knew herself well enough to know she was falling for him fast. He was dangerous, in a way no one else had ever been and he was everything she couldn't or rather shouldn't have.

But there was a subtle tension between them, that erupted when one made the mistake of touching the other. It was a silent understanding that they would become lovers. If not today, then another day. He'd stay until they were both satisfied, she knew. And then he would leave.

When they finished the sign, the pair stepped back to admire their artwork. It was pretty, no thanks to her. Sam had talent and had guided her, showing exactly what to do to get a good result. Mercedes grinned smugly, convinced that Jane Matthews' baking wouldn't turn out half as well as her sign had.

"We make a good team," she said approvingly. "We're lucky you're better at painting than at dancing." Sam laughed and dipped his finger in the blue paint before wiping it on the tip of her nose.

"Hey, my dancing is rad!"

Her eyes widened and she scrunched her nose, in a cute manner. If Sam wanted to play that game, she was all for it, but she'd win. She always did.

"What are you doing?" he asked, taking a step back when she dipped her whole hand in the yellow paint. "Don't, I'm sorry!"

"Don't start battles you can't finish." she smeared the paint across his cheek, and didn't bother holding back her laugh. Sam paused, smiling widely. Her laugh was a rich, delighted one that made a shiver dance along his spine pleasantly. Most women he knew giggled softly, afraid to annoy or to seem improper. He hated it. It was as though they were simply indulging him and Sam didn't want that. Sam wanted someone who would laugh until she cried with him. Mercy laughed like that, and it made him weak in the knees. His response to her attack was to empty the red paint over her head.

"My hair." She whispered in shock. "You-you... my hair." seconds later he was drenched in purple. "That's for starting this."

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She was calmer, at least on the surface, when she step out of her bathroom and saw Sam, still damp from his shower. He was naked but for a loose towel that hung at his hips and sitting on her couch. The radio was playing loudly and he was softly singing along. He sent her a small smile, which she reciprocated absently. Mercy had meant everything she had said at _Miss Mama's_. Him being here was wrong. She wasn't naive or innocent. She was the desire flash in his eyes when she came too close. It thrilled her, knowing that an attractive and seemingly sweet man wanted her, of all people. But with that came sadness, as it was only a reminder of the maximum she would ever get.

"Sorry it took so long."

Sam shrugged. "I don't mean to be a hassle." he said carefully, and she self-consciously patted her hair. Her mother had always told her that women were to never present themselves to a man without looking acceptable, which meant having your hair and make-up done. The rule applied to every situation, sometimes excluding days at the beach. And so there was absolutely no way she would have stepped out of the bathroom in anything but a pretty dress, looking absolutely perfect.

"It's fine, I'll just..." she trailed off. "Your clothes are dry." As she went back to her small bathroom, she mentally scolded herself. Don't let him get to you, she told herself. Men like him break hearts without even trying. She took his clothes out of the yellow dryer, and straightened when she felt him behind her.

"They ready yet?" he asked and Mercedes turned to face him. His eyes were such and intense green that seemed to bore through her. He was too close, she could barely speak and when she did, it felt like grains of salt in her throat.

"All done." she thrust his clothes into his chest, hoping he'd give her space but he didn't.

"Thanks." he hesitated before hooking a finger under her chin and tilting it upwards. "You're very beautiful. I wanted to tell you last night and a thousand times today." This was exactly what she had been trying to avoid. She didn't want the pain she was accustomed to having. She was tired and had come to terms with the fact that she'd always be alone. His desire didn't bother her, her growing attraction did. Sam pressed a hesitant kiss to her lips. It was soft, as she had imagined it would be. And warm. He pulled back quickly, blushing deeply.

"I'm sorry, I get carried away." He wasn't like anyone she had ever met before, another reason why he was dangerous. She couldn't be one step ahead if she could figure him out.

Dear God help me, thought Mercedes. Let's get this over with. She slid a hand around the back of his neck and rose onto her toes. He was surprised, but not displeased when she closed the distance. He dropped his clothes and she felt his hand slide to her back, balling into fists as her gathered her shirt in his fingers. He was the one to deepen the kiss; tasting, teasing. As the kiss grew more urgent, his hands slid up, cruising over her, setting off little charges under her skin.

"Radio." she said, easing back. "We have to turn it off."

"Why?" confused, Sam leaned back.

"I don't want to mark the song." she answered as though it were obvious. There was nothing worse than hearing a song and being haunted by memories of the past, especially memories like these. Sam's smiled, his eyes glinting mischievously, and shook his head. Otis Redding's _These Arms Of Mine_ blared through the small speakers of her pink radio. She was done for, she thought as he captured her mouth with his. She'd never be able to hear the song without thinking of him. Somehow, they blindly made their way to her bedroom, never once letting go of each other.

In the bedroom, she stepped back from him to undress herself, but he stopped her.

"Let me." he said, his voice thick with desire. He lifted a hand and nudged the thin straps of her dress so that it fell off her shoulders. It the was most intimate a man had ever been with her. Her past experiences had been ones of passion, raw and pure. But Sam... he was gentle yet firm, and he took his time, savoring. Her head rolled back when his lips found her throat as his hands cruised her back, unzipping her dress so that it fell to the ground.

"You're perfect." he stepped back, simply to look at her. Desire, already impossibly strong, clutched at his belly. There weren't enough words to describe her. She was everything he had imagined, yet somehow she was more.

Mercedes scoffed and looked away. She was a lot of things, but perfect had never been one of them. If she was, she wouldn't have felt so lonely, so undesirable.

"I'm fat and black." she corrected and he caught her chin his hand, forcing her look at him.

"Perfect." he repeated. He led her to the bed and sat her down, carefully taking off her shoes. She would have chuckled, seeing how he had neatly placed them, but his lips trailed up her calf sending sparks soaring through her body that had her clutching the edge of the bed.

"Sam." she moaned as his teeth skimmed the back of her knee, and fell back onto the bed.

"Tell me if you want me to stop." his tongue slid along her thigh, and she trembled as deep, dark pleasure swept her away. His hands traveled slowly to her hips, reaching for the thin lace that covered her and gently tugged it down. She couldn't deny him, not when he thrilled her in ways no man had ever managed to. Any coherent thought escaped her mind when his mouth found her and sent her spinning beyond control. It was a burst of light, a heat that built and built setting her body on fire and leaving it to glow.

Her fingers tangled in his hair, catching his attention and causing him to pull back, smiling softly. And then he finally came onto her, giving her the opportunity to taste as she had been tasted and to explore. Her hands rushed over him, slowed then lingered. He'd lost the towel some time ago. There was a sense of smug satisfaction when she felt his pale skin shiver under the scrape of her teeth and the pass of her tongue.

There was something besides lust between them. She felt it and despised it. All the more reasons to hope he left after they were done. Whatever they did it wasn't enough. Even now, in such a position, she wanted more.

She wrapped her legs around his waist and rose up to meet him, sighing as he slipped inside her. He reached for her hands, linking her fingers with his own as he gave himself. And then she arched back, her breath becoming short and ragged. In desperate attempt to keep her close, he drew her back to him, heart against heart.

Her arms locked around him, her mouth finding his as they rocked themselves toward the edge and over.

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Mercedes woke to find the bed empty. She smiled softly and instantly hated herself for it. She shouldn't have been so happy to be alone, not after he had thrilled her beyond reason. It made her feel like a cheap whore, but she found comfort knowing that her heart was safe. She stretched, and frowned when her hand touched a paper that lay at her side. Mercedes sat up quickly, a peered down at the note. It read:

_Had to leave. Didn't wake you because you looked so peaceful._

_Your housemate, Tina, seems really nice._

_'Twill be an honor to court you, Mercy. _

_Yours, Sam._

Mercedes curled the paper into a ball, her hands shaking. No, this wasn't supposed to happen. He was just supposed to get what he wanted and leave. He wasn't supposed to want to court her. That's not how it worked. She dressed quickly and went to the living room, her face pale.

On the couch, watching the tube was Santana and Tina who looked at her expectantly when she slumped down beside them.

"Had fun?" asked Santana smirking. "I heard you had company."

Mercedes closed her eyes and shook her head.

"Was he -"

"Shut it, Tana. She only gets that look when she's hurt. He's like the others, isn't he?" asked Tina, sympathetically.

"Worse." whispered Mercedes. "He wants to court me." Until when? She asked herself. Until someone better came along? Until he realized she just wasn't special? He didn't seem to understand how serious dating outside of one's race was. Just last year Martin Luther King Jr had been assassinated. Just because the colored had 'equal' rights now didn't mean everything was okay. In what dreamland was he living? Oh, this was worse, alright, but it was a game Mercedes was well acquainted with. She'd beat him to punch. He'd never get the chance to break her heart.

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_**Hope you enjoyed! Reviews are lovely.**_

_**xx**_


	3. Chapter 3

****_UGH! Thank you for the love. So many alerts/faves/reviews. You're all too nice. I don't have a good reason for being so late with an update. I've been working on an original story, so my mind has been elsewhere. I hope you enjoy this chapter, but let me tell you it was hell to write. Sorry about any historical inaccuracies. I know my basic history, and I've researched a bit but I'm certain Americans are more aware of their history than I am. Hopefully, I did okay._

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**CHAPTER 3**

**.**

She told herself she wasn't avoiding him - and she wasn't. At least, not exactly. Between her studies and work, Mercedes barely had time to sleep, let alone deal with a big-lipped admirer. But now the university was out for the summer, and she could no longer blame a heavy schedule for their lack of conversations. Though the worst part was that she found herself missing him. Sam had been funny, kind and easy-going; the perfect qualities for a good friend. And boyfriend, she mused, but that was out of the question. Not only was he sure to be on his way after a few months, but he was a white man. No amount of sex or fun was worth the pain of society's rejection. She should have never slept with him in the first place, but that was in the past. The only thing she could do know was avoid him.

Her friends never missed an opportunity to comment on that fact, much to Mercedes' annoyance. Even now, as she anxiously waited for her grandmother to pick her up for their supper date, the girls took the time to comment on her relationship status.

"Remember, sweets, don't be too flirty. You're taken." said Tina, from the kitchen. Mercedes shook her head, exasperated. Her grandmother was dead-set on making her meet her best-friend Jackie's great-nephew. Something about keeping the family friendship alive. It didn't bother her, but she doubted she'd find this man to her taste.

"By a trout, but no matter."

"'Tana," Mercedes rolled her eyes and sat next to Santana on the couch. "I'm not taken. I haven't spoken to Sam since we..." she trailed off and her friends chuckled knowingly.

"He likes you, Mercy. Why, I'll never know. You've been awful to him. But he seems genuine enough and you seemed satisfied with his skills. No harm in seeing where that goes for a while." said Santana as she lit herself a cigarette. Sensing she was needed, Tina joined her friends on the couch, wearing an apron and holding a wooden spoon.

"Out of the question." Mercedes shook her head. "My heart can't take any more-"

"No one's saying you need to fall in love with him." interrupted Tina, earning an agreeing grunt from Santana. "Though you're going to have to let yourself love and be loved at some point."

"With my track record, that won't be happening any time soon." She'd come to accept it. Her friends would find lovely people, marry and have children, while she stayed in the little house attempting to win the auntie of the year award.

"Oh, shut up, Mercy. Give us a kiss." said Santana, and she leaned over to give Mercedes a chaste kiss on the lips. "Anyone with half a brain would want to be with you, if not for your sparkling personality, for those luscious lips."

"You're insane." mumbled Mercedes.

"And you love me. Now listen, the art of being a woman," said Santana, as she took drag from the slime white stick and crossed her legs over Mercedes' knees. "Isn't in being picture perfect for a man, is it Tina?"

"No sir'ee." came Tina's reply.

"It's in knowing when and how much of yourself you can give to enjoy life's sinful pleasures, without hurting yourself. A wise girl knows how many kisses she can spare and leaves before her heart even threatens to crack." said Santana. "I think you should go for it. But if you know it won't last, don't even dare him your heart in the first place. If you sense your time together is ending, then end it before he does. It's a man's world, Sweets, and her heart is just about the only thing a woman has control over. They can tell us what to wear, how to speak, but they can't tell us who and how to love. You let men take control of your heart, Mercy, and you may as well become their slave."

"Aren't I being wise by staying away from him then?" asked Mercedes.

"Are you hurting?" countered Tina. "If you are then no. Women have to prove themselves in every aspect of their lives, especially women like us. On top of everything else, we need to prove that we, as colored women, deserve respect. Let them prove _they_ deserve _our_ love."

"By completely ignoring Sam, you're letting the men of your past win. If you really don't to date Sam, then that's fine. But don't run away. That's not you. The Mercy I love fights her problems head on. I know you like him at least a little bit."

"This is all very confusing." admitted Mercedes.

"Long story short, Sweets, a wise woman never gives her heart to a man who hasn't proven himself worthy of it. She has sex, but she never makes love. And she leaves before she is left. When the right man comes, he'll do everything he needs to do to get her love without even trying and the thought of leaving will never cross her mind. Only then does she give him her heart."

"But what you're doing; shutting out guys who think they can be that man? That's just making sure He will never come 'round knocking." added Tina. "Be a wise woman, Mercy. We are."

"What about the old saying 'it's better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all'?"

"Ask again when one of us have loved and lost someone that was worth loving." said Santana, and moved her legs so that Mercedes could stand. "Now go, your grandmother's waiting. Remember what we said, Mercy. That's the only way you won't be hurt again."

"Flirt a little for us, too. There's no shame in needing to feel wanted."

"And, Mercy?"

Mercedes turned just as she reached the front door "What?"

Her friends glanced at each other and smiled sheepishly. "We're sorry."

"For?"

"You'll see."

**.**

The ride to Jackie's house was a quiet one. Opal, Mercedes' grandmother, had not expected anything more. After all, she knew all about the Sam situation, thanks to Santana, and all about the fears that plagued her grand-daughter's mind. She wanted to slap that Shane boy for ever having hurt her baby, but Opal knew better. Everything happened for a reason. The Lord worked in mysterious ways. Though, she was hopeful that Tina and 'Tana's plan would work. If everything went according to plan, they would have Mercedes and Sam on speaking terms by tomorrow morning.

Opal had always been proud of her grand-daughter, but was especially proud tonight. She was exquisite. Her chocolate complexion was flawless and her dark brown hair hung in loose curls that reached below her breasts. No fuss had been made where make up was concerned, but she had not neglected it. Opal knew that any time spent in the bathroom was not for the young man Mercedes was about to meet, but for Jackie. Mercedes was determined not to show anyone how broken she really was, though those closest to her had noticed a change in her demeanor since the Shane situation. There was a haunting sadness in Mercedes' eyes that worried Opal.

They turned into Valley Rd where a few children played in the street. Opal, being the owner of the local toyshop, knew them all by name and earned a few whistles and cheers as she honked her horn and waved at them. It was a scene that both shocked and pleased Mercedes; an old black woman being cheered on by white children. The car pulled up in front of a small bright blue house. In the driveway was an oddly familiar red corvette behind a rusty old pick up truck. The rusty truck, Mercedes knew, belonged to Jackie. It was her prized possession, though she could never understand why. She supposed the red car belonged to Jackie's mysterious grand-nephew. If it was, it looked horribly out of place in the scene.

They parked behind the red car and Opal turned to Mercedes. '"Prudence keeps life safe, but does not often make it happy"', she said, quoting Samuel Johnson, and lay a hand on Mercedes'. "I dare you to forget everything bad for one night and let go."

Mercedes looked down at their clasped hands and shut her eyes. "What if I can't?"

"You can. That's the thing about you, Mercy. You never give up. You were always so determined. Be determined for this. I need you back, M, the happy you. More importantly, you need yourself back."

With that Opal squeezed her hand and opened her car door. "Ready? Jackie's staring through the curtains."

With a slight nod, Mercedes opened her door and both women came out. Opal knocked once, but did not wait for an answer. She never had. After sixty-five years of friendship, the two women's homes were each other's second homes and they considered themselves family. Jackie stood in the entrance her arms folded. She was a short, hourglass shaped woman. She was beautiful, at seventy, with barely any wrinkles. Her hair was dyed blond and was tied up in an elegant French bun. Though she stood sternly, her green eyes were laughing.

"You're late." She said.

"No we were on time, but we had a little talk in the car. Of course, you'd know that since you had your nose pressed against the window the whole time." said Opal , hanging her coat on the coat holder.

"I sure I don't know what you're talking about" sniffed Jackie. Turning her attention to Mercedes, she beamed. "Well isn't it my little Mercy! You haven't been around in a while." She wrapped her arms around Mercedes, who found herself surprised at the easiness of it all. She had forgotten how much she loved Jackie's company and would have kept on hugging her longer if she had not been scared of worrying her.

"Nice car you have there, Jackie." Said Opal, peering out the window.

"That's not mine," she said, shaking her head in exasperation. "It's Samuel's. Speaking of which… Sam!" she called out, surprising both Mercedes and Opal. There was a grunt and a tall handsome young man appeared in the doorway. He was fairly tall with a broad shoulders and a lean frame. He had blond hair, which was sexily tussled, and piercing green eyes like his great-aunt's. He was handsome. No… not handsome. He was arresting. He was in need of a shave, but there was no mistaking that face.

Sam Evans.

Jackie put her arm through his and grinned in pride. "This is my grandson Sam Evans." He smiled and held out a hand.

"You must be Mercedes," His voice was strong and deep. She could have slapped him. Of course this was why the girls had apologized. They had known. After all that talk, they had sent her out to meet him, knowing they would be forced to speak. But if he wanted to play the I-don't-know-who-you-are game, she was more than willing. Mercedes nodded and shook his hand firmly. He turned to Opal and shook her hand as well. "And you are Opal."

**.**

Jackie had outdone herself again. Her chicken Parmesan was legend but somehow, tonight it was better. Conversation was kept pleasant during the main course. They had made small talk, Mercedes and Sam barely glancing at each-other. It made Opal want to scream in exasperation. Jackie, who knew everything her friend knew, was growing more impatient by the second.

"So, Aunt Jackie never told me how you met." said Sam, as he finished off his chicken.

The old friends glanced at each other before Opal smiled. "My mother was a maid for your grand-parents. She brought me along when she could."

"We grew up together." said Jackie, nodding. "I can't remember a day I didn't know her."

"Isn't that strange?" asked Sam. "No offense intended, Miss Opal, but I thought you'd be weary of our family. I know y'alls had a hard time-"

"Not every white person treated us bad, child. Now, I'll be the first to say that white folk can be mighty ignorant, cruel when it suits them, but there are good people out there. Your great-grandparents? They were kind." said Opal sternly. "I remember this one time, Miss Vivian - that would be your great-grandmother – brought us all to the lake. We spent the evening swimming and laughing,"

"Had a campfire too." added Jackie. "That was a nice night."

Mercedes listened to them attentively. She knew all this already, but still, one question begged itself to be asked. "I never understood why they were nice in the first place. You'd think they'd be content in watching a colored woman clean, not befriending her."

Once again, the old friends glanced at each-other.

"My grand-father had a temper. A fine one." started Jackie, carefully. "He ran a plantation back then, in Tennessee. Had lots of slaves, and didn't treat them well. But then, he never treated anyone well. Especially his wife, Rosemary. He came home angry one day, and when he saw that supper wasn't quite done he wasn't afraid to hit her as he often did. My father, who was fifteen at the time, tried to defend his mother, and took the rest of the beating for her. From the stories, there was lots of screaming and crying, lots of blood. That's when one of the maids and one of the slaves came to break up the fight. The maid took the kids and Rosemary out of the house, and brought them somewhere safe, while the slave tried to calm the man down."

"What happened to him?" asked Mercedes. "The slave."

"My grand-father shot him a few days later. The maid as well." Jackie lowered her gaze, ashamed. "I'm not certain my father ever accepted that. We don't know the slave's name, but the maid was called Agnes. He gave them a proper burial. He owed them his life after all. It's unfair, isn't it? I can't understand what that injustice must be like, and I won't disrespect you by pretending I do."

Opal reached over the table to pat her friend's hand. "There, there, Jackie. This was supposed to be a pleasant supper."

"Yes, well," Jackie smiled. "I believe that incident showed my father that evil men come in all shapes, sizes and colors. So do good men. He visited their grave site every year on the anniversary of their death and lay flowers on their graves. Even long after he'd moved and settled here in Lima. He did until his death."

Sam, who had paled and hadn't uttered a word during his Aunt's story, finally spoke. "You never mentioned your great-grandfather's name, Aunt Jackie."

She turned to him. "He has no name, Sam. He's nothing to us." she said sharply. Satisfied when he nodded, she smiled. "On to less horrible tales,"

"Yes, Samuel, I hear you have your eye on a lady."

Mercedes nearly choked on her water.

"Yes, ma'am. She's wonderful." nodded Sam. "I'm not sure she realizes just how wonderful she really is. It's a shame."

"Mhm, but you're a handsome boy and from what Jackie told me, a kind one." said Opal. "You seem like the type of boy that would treat her like a queen."

"I'd try my hardest." his smiled was genuine.

"Well, then any girl would be lucky to have you. Don't you agree, Mercedes?"

A hundred ways to murder her best-friends were currently occupying her mind, but she nodded, smiling sweetly. "Very lucky." She tuned out after that. Sam was making a good impression. She could tell because her grandmother never bothered with people she didn't like. Had Sam been a disappointment, she would have been polite, keeping the conversation impersonal. But this, wasn't impersonal. Not at all. It annoyed Mercedes that he seemed to be getting the approval from her entire entourage. As though she had no say in the situation at all.

"Mercedes?" Mercedes looked up at Jackie, who was looking at her curiously. "Are you okay?" Mercedes nodded but Jackie did not seem satisfied. Still, she smiled and lay a hand on her grandnephew's arm. "I was just saying, before you went off daydreaming, that Sam should show you the gardens."

"But I've already seen the-"

"Well then see them again. Opal and I'll do the dishes." Jackie smiled sweetly, but Mercedes could see that behind the smile was a will of iron. And when Jackie wanted something done, she made it happen. Sighing Mercedes nodded and stood.

**.**

The gardens were a splash of colors. Jackie tended to them well. She'd always had a green thumb, it showed especially in her backyard. But Mercedes had seen it all before, and though she would have loved to sit on the stone bench that overlooked the red rose bush and stare up at the stars that twinkled in the night sky, she had more pressing matters to attend to. Once she was certain they were out of earshot, Mercedes turned to him, hands on her hips.

"Pretending you don't know me, how interesting." she said.

" What? I assumed that's what you wanted since you _have_ been avoiding me." he countered.

"I wasn't avoiding you." lied Mercedes. "I was busy with Finals, and then band practice with the girls and work-"

"So, if you had some free time, you would have actively sought me out or at least responded to my messages and calls because you know I'm interested?" he asked skeptically. Sam nodded when she didn't answer. "That's what I thought. I want to court you."

"I... I'm not sure that's quite a good idea." said Mercedes quietly. "We aren't the same type of people, you and I." She didn't need to specify what she meant. Sam understood.

Sam laughed and shook his head. "Well now, I'm not too sure about that. I think we both dream of a nice country, where a man is judged by his soul before anything else." There was no answer. "You're making a big deal out of being a colored woman when there's no need to."

"When there's no need to? Didn't you listen to your aunt's story?" Mercedes stopped dead in her tracks, shaking with fury. "Your people are the ones that stopped us from getting a proper education, going in the same restaurant as you, torchin' our homes when you feel like it. The world's been making a big deal about me being colored my whole goddamned life. It's about all that matters right now."

"It doesn't matter between us, I like you. We can be friends without thinking of color. Why do you think I slept with you? And watch you all the time?"

"You're suicidal, that's why." She said. "And I'll tell you what, I am not going to be some woman you're going to sweet-talk into becoming your whore. I'll graduate and become a singer. Ain't got no time for you."

"No one said anything about being my whore, 'Cedes. You're killing me." Sam was torn between exasperation and amusement as he often was with her. He passed a hand through his thick blond hair and sighed. "How about supper? I'm a nice guy, you know me."

"Supper?" Mercedes rolled her eyes. "And where do you suppose they'll let us eat together in peace, as a couple? I'm not meant to be with men like you. Why can't you understand? I only slept with you so you could have your fun and move on. I thought if you slept with a black woman once, you'd be pleased and have a story to tell your friends. I never signed up for this."

"Why are you saying that?" Sam stepped in front of her. "I like you and I want to be-"

"Sam,"Mercedes smiled sadly and touched his cheek. "You're a good man, your heart is in the right place. But the world doesn't want us together. Not yet. They still need to get used to the way things are now. Laws have been passed and repealed, but the mentality is still there. What we have... It's not worth it. All it does is agitate them, make them angrier than they already are. They'll want to take more of my rights away, and I ain't got any left to give, Sam. I have nothing else."

"They'll get to know you and love you. They'll see what I see." Sam lifted a hand to reach Mercedes' which was still caressing his cheek. She thought she saw, in that moment, why her friends insisted he could be the man to sweep her off her feet. His eyes were expressive, and so very sincere. And in them, she saw hope and kindness.

"They'll see what they want to see," she whispered and stepped back uncomfortably.

"And if that problem didn't exist?" asked Sam. "What if we lived in a world where we were all accepted, no matter what?"

"We don't-"

"But what if?" asked Sam furiously. "Would you court me then?"

"No. I told you, Sam, the first day we met. You don't want me. I'm damaged. I can offer you friendship, but what you think you want... you won't get that from me."

Sam sighed, and shook him head, as though not believing her words. "What if I fall in love with you?" he asked.

"I advise you not to."

"What if you fall in love with me?" he asked quietly.

"Then I'd be a damned fool." said Mercedes. She didn't add that she knew she eventually would, should he choose to accept her friendship. But when he smiled suddenly and straightened, she saw something flash in his eyes; determination. Mercedes realized in that moment, she'd underestimated her opponent and in no way was she in control of the situation.

"Well then darlin', you'd best come to terms with the inevitable because friendship is the foundation for any good ole relationship." He smirked, and started walking back to the house, but not before saying: "Just you wait, Miss Jones. I reckon I can make you Mrs. Evans in no time."

* * *

><p><em>Until next time! xxx<em>

_Please review! _

_Side note: Can I just give a shout-out to Sue Sylvester for being perfect? Calling out Samcedes' sexual tension like that? The woman deserves an award. Also, "Kentucky Fried Stripper" may just be the best nickname ever. _


	4. Chapter 4

**Hi! Thank you for the reviews, and a huge apology for the late update. Please accept this chapter and a virtual hug as a 'sorry'.**

* * *

><p><strong>.<strong>

**Chapter Four**

**.**

"Never in my years have I seen such a pathetically obvious attempt to impress a girl," Santana watched Sam Evans attempt another summersault into the lake. Her big red sunglasses hid amused eyes. "If you weren't _muy caliente_, Mercy, I would tease."

Mercedes rolled her eyes. Ever since that night at his grandmother's, Sam had been awful friendly which was to be expected. However, every time she got comfortable enough to forget his initial intentions he would do something to remind her of it. He would hug her a second longer than necessary, he would kiss the corner of her mouth instead of her cheek… Or, when he was feeling particularly gutsy, Sam would sit and stare at her and smile a half-smile that let her know exactly where his mind was wandering.

Opal, bless her, had taken a liking to him and had begun to include him in everything- including Sunday brunch. There was no escaping Sam Evans and his stares. Still, Mercedes had come to depend on his friendship and humour.

But today wasn't the time for any funny business. She and her girls were here strictly on business. Every summer, the town would hold a _fiesta_ in at the lake. There was food, drinks, live music and plenty of scantily clad individuals. Mercedes, Tina and 'Tana had the pleasure of performing for an hour on the stage, that was set up on the field, in front of over 300 people.

Because of that, the girls had refused to enter the Lake, instead opting to sit on a picnic blanket and watch the scene. They were dressed casually, and each girl had one slim white cigarette tucked behind their right ear. Sam, who had come along with Noah and Mike, had made unsuccessful attempts to catch Mercedes' attention.

"I think he's coming," whispered Tina. "Yes, he is."

Sure enough, Sam now stood towering above them, grinning. For a while, Mercedes didn't say anything and focused on her magazine until she heard Santana speak.

"Take a picture, Guppy. We're busy."

"I can see that," he smirked and squatted to be eye-level with Mercedes. "I've been trying to get your attention all afternoon. We need to talk."

"'Tana said we're busy, sugar." Said Mercedes absently.

"You can spare a few minutes to talk to your _buddy._"

"Wait a second, Evans. I've a bone to pick with you. I hear a lot of talk about courting my friend, but what we need to know is what you see in our Mercy." asked Santana, brushing her hair away from her face.

Sam rubbed the back of his neck. "She's sweet, beautiful-"

Unimpressed, Tina rolled her eyes. "That's a whole lot of pretty words coming from a pretty boy. I want the truth."

"The raw unaltered truth," agreed Santana, ignoring the warning glance Mercedes sent her.

"You know what I see, otherwise you wouldn't love her as much as you do. Can I go now?"

Tina and 'Tana shrugged. His answer hadn't been what they were hoping to hear, but it was good enough for the moment. Mercedes did need to look at her friends to know they appreciated the blond. The conversation they had had on wise girls a while back played in her mind. Perhaps it wasn't such a bad thing to get involved with Sam. It was harder to keep him away than it was to keep him close. And, despite her harsh words, she found she wasn't trying as hard as she could.

"What is he doing?" asked Tina, brows raised. Mercedes looked to where she was pointing and frowned. Sam was at the spot where he and his friends had laid their towels, a wheelbarrow at his side. "Where did he get it from?"

"I have no idea." Santana slid her sunglasses down her nose and watched as Sam filled the wheelbarrow with their friends' towels. He placed them neatly before coming their way.

"He's such a ditz," said Mercedes, returning her attention to her magazine. The boy made no sense whatsoever. Well, she thought, it wasn't her problem. If he wanted to look like a square in front of everyone it was his own damn business.

Still, she glanced up at him and fought the urge to smile. Ditz or not, he was the cutest one she'd met. If she hadn't been so scared, she would have agreed to courting right then and there. But that was out of the question. Mercedes pushed the thought out of her mind as quickly as it had come in. Sam was dangerous and he didn't even know it.

Mercedes was deeply concentrated on an article when she felt herself being picked up. The strong arms carried her to the wheelbarrow, much to her friends' amusement, and gently place her in it. "If I can't get you away from your friends to talk," said Sam, grinning widely. "Then I'll just bring you."

"In a wheel barrow?" yelled Mercedes, grabbing onto the sides when he began pushing her. "Have you lost your mind?"

"Cool your chops, woman. Ever been on a boat?" asked Sam, ignoring her glare. They had reached the dock where a small rowboat was tied. He lifted her again and gently placed Mercedes in the boat despite her struggles.

"Let me get off this thing." Mercedes spoke through gritted teeth. He laughed, untying the boat.

"No can do, darlin'. I'm kidnapping you for a while. Feel free to ring the Fuzz when we're done." Sam flashed her a charming grin as he settle in front of her. "I reckon spending a few nights in a cell is worth seeing you all worked up."

Mercedes was silent as he rowed the boat further to the center of the lake. Her best friends were still at their spot, watching her situation and laughing. Laughing like it was something funny when it wasn't. No matter, she would deal with the traitors later.

"Why are we here?" she asked finally, crossing her arms.

"I'm here because Noah's got his eye on a chick and needed support and you're here to torture me and perform later."

"Stop being a smartass, Samuel. It doesn't suit you. Why are we in this boat?"

"I'd like to take you out proper some time. Just you, me and the power of attraction." Sam found himself amused when she pulled a packet of matches from her pocket and lit the cigarette she'd kept behind her ear. "Stressed?"

Mercedes took a long drag and blew a sickly smelling puff of smoke into his face. "Annoyed. You did not throw me in a rowboat to ask me out."

"Actually," Sam leaned forward, taking the cigarette from her and flicking it into the water. "I gently placed you in the rowboat, but yes. I reckon I can keep you here 'til I get an acceptable answer and stop smoking. It doesn't suit you."

She glared at him and pointed to the floating half-finished fag. "There are fishes in that water, Evans. Take it out. How would you feel if some flake threw his trash in your home?"

Shocked by her scolding, Sam only leaned to take it out of the water as he struggled to find the right words. Finally, it seemed the only thing he could say was what she refused to accept. "I love you."

Mercedes rolled her eyes. Sam was a lot of things; kind, funny, patient… but above all he was determined, a trait she usually admired in people. "I am not going to go on a date with you, Sam. You need to accept that."

He nodded, his expression grim. Slowly, he stood in the little rowboat and began to dance. "_Come on baby let's do the twist! Take me by my little hand and go like this." _His dancing made the rowboat shake and threaten to topple over, but he didn't stop. "_Twist! Baby, twist. Just like this. Come on little miss and do the twist."_

"What are you doing?! Sit your ass down, Evans. Sit it down!" Mercedes held on tightly, terrified she would fall. Still, he didn't stop. In fact, the more she argued the more obnoxious his dancing became. "I am not doing the twist. I'm not. Sam, sit. Sam, we are in a boat!"

"You're doin' a whole lotta lip flappin' when all I want is for you to dance with me." He said, flashing her a lopsided smile. "This is our date, right here."

Gritting her teeth, Mercedes tugged at his hand. "I'm not dancing with you in a row boat, now sit before we fall."

In response, he only laughed and shook his head. "I'll sit the minute you agree to catch a flick with me next Friday. Whaddaya say, sweetheart?"

Oh, he could not be serious. The boy had lost his mind, it was clear now. He was making a scene and for what? Her? Mercedes wanted to scream, laugh and cry all at the same time. "People are watching! Sit!" Indeed, he had attracted attention namely from their friends who watched from the shore.

"Come on, be a sport." He pleaded.

"Fine!" She screamed as the boat nearly flipped and he sat. "What is it about the concept of friendship that you don't understand?"

"Let's be honest, Mercy. You and I, we're practically goin' steady. We just need to make it official. Time to stop beating 'round the bush and start the lovin'."

Mercedes laughed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Oh, wow. So, you're delusional too. I don't love you."

"You know, I believe you and its okay." He smiled and she made the mistake of thinking the conversation had taken a mature turn. "_Cupid draw back your bow and let your arrow go straight to my lover's heart for me, for me. Cupid please hear my cry and let your arrow fly straight to my lover's heart for me."_

Mercedes had her hand covering his mouth quickly enough. Ignoring the kissed he pressed into her hand, she whispered furiously. "You're not funny. Have I mentioned how insane you are?"

He shook away from her and continued his song loudly. Mercedes could admit he had a pleasant voice, one she would have loved to listen to had they been in another situation. "_Now Cupid if your arrow makes a love strong for me, I promise I will love her until eternity. I know between the two of us her heart we can steal, help me if you will." _He finished his verse with flourish and position himself so that his head was on Mercedes' laps and his legs dangled off the side of the rowboat.

"Sam, this friendship can't work between us." She murmured, toying with the strands of his hair.

"Finally, you get it." He shifted so that he was looking into her eyes. "I _never_ wanted to be your friend, Mercy. Especially not after… you know."

Of course she knew. Sam had always been honest with his intentions. He had been since the moment they met. She sighed, not knowing what to say. The truth was that no matter what she told him, Mercedes was simply afraid. Afraid of loving someone more than they could ever love her. The fact that he loved her now did not mean he would love her in three months.

On the shore, Santana and Tina had packed their belongings and were waving her over, gesturing to their wrists. "Sam, I- the girls are waiting for me. We've a show in an hour or so. I have to go. I'm sorry."

He nodded and sat up straight. "I'll be there, at your show. Think about us. Please?" They rowed to the dock in silence, Sam silently hoping and Mercedes reflecting on her emotions.

**.**

When Puck had first told him about _The Wisettes_, Sam hadn't expected to fall in love with them. The group had no lead vocalist, and it was obvious the songs were a group effort. It was done subtly enough, but Sam saw the occasional glance Mercy would send Tina and 'Tana and the supportive smile she would get in return. He wondered absently if how far Mercedes would get without her girls should the opportunity ever present itself. They were a unit, a trio with an unbreakable bond.

The girls wore purple sequined mermaid dresses that hugged their curves and revealed some modest cleavage. Mercy had never looked better, but Sam decided it had less to do with her physique and everything to do with the stage. She was born for it, the three girls were. Her smile was brilliant as she danced; singing one of The Supremes' hit songs. It was the smile that did it, that reminded him of his love for her.

Beside him, Puck mouthed the lyrics to the song grinning proudly.

"_I long for you every night just to kiss your sweet, sweet lips. Hold you ever, ever so tight and I wanna say…" _Mercedes held out her hands which her friends gladly took. The three girls, smiling radiantly, finished the song together. "_Someday we'll be together Yes we will, yes we will, Someday we'll be together."_

It wasn't a big venue. They performed on a mediocre stage in the field near the local lake, hardly the ideal spot for a concert, but the girls were proud. The reaction of the crowd was incredible and only cemented their dreams for recognition.

Santana stepped forward with taking her microphone off the stand. "Whoo," She wiped her forehead in an exaggerated matter. "After an hour on stage, you get a little tired. But y'all were a bitchin' audience, and we have something special up next."

"Now, there's a little someone in the audience tonight," added Tina. "A little someone who's given us a lot to talk about over the last few weeks. This is for him." Sam felt the color rising in his cheeks when Puck punched in on the shoulder.

"Me?" yelled a boy who stood only feet away from the stage.

Tina turned to him and flashed him a grin. "You can only wish, sweetheart."

The beat was fun and instantly recognizable. Sam found himself clapping along and tapping his foot in no time.

"_How sweet it is to be loved by you, how sweet it is to be loved by you._" Unlike the other songs, Tina and Santana let Mercedes lead. There was no denying which member of the trio the song was for, but Sam had a hard time believing they sang to him after the conversation in the rowboat.

"_I needed the shelter of someone's arms and there you were. I needed someone to understand my ups and downs and there you were with sweet love and devotion deeply touching my emotion." _Mercedes caught his eye and smiled, shrugging._ "I want to stop and thank you baby."_

It was no wonder that later, after the field was cleared out and everyone had gone home, Sam had packed himself an overnight bag and knocked on Mercedes' door. Santana had opened it, brows raised and arms crossed. She'd just opened her mouth to speak when he caught sight of his singing sensation in the living room. Dropping his back in the doorway, he crossed to her, pulling her into a deep kiss.

If Mercedes was surprised or even the slightest bit annoyed, it didn't show. Her hands roamed his chest finally grabbing a fistful of his shirt and dragging him to her bedroom. Their mouths never left each other, even under her best friends' amused stare. When the bedroom door slammed shut behind Sam and Mercedes, Tina let out a low whistle.

"Well." Santana kicked the duffle bag into the house and shut the front door. "I certainly wasn't expecting that."

"She's finally a wise girl." Tina wiped an imaginary tear from her eye. "Pour the wine, 'Tana. This calls for it."

* * *

><p><strong>.<strong>

**I'm not quite certain which option I'm going to pick yet, but there are two different conflicts I'm thinking about for this Fic. Part of me believes I should follow Sam, Mercedes as well as the Wisettes' professional beginnings in a sweet manner. The other part believes I should shed the cute and go for the drama of it all.**

**Thank you for reading, and I wish you the best until next time!**


	5. Chapter 5

**IMPORTANT TRIGGER WARNING: Talk of suicide. However there are no character deaths.**

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><p><strong>.<strong>

**Chapter 5**

**.**

Mercedes had a lot on her mind. Summer had ended and school kept her busy. Not to mention the part-time job she'd landed herself at a hotel in town.

Over time, she'd gotten closer to Samuel Evans. He was perfect in the most imperfect way. He was stubborn, annoying, awfully determined, at times clueless but he was funny and loyal, and he had a heart so big and full of love she wondered what on earth she'd done to deserve such a man.

She'd fallen in love with him one night during a picnic date under the stars. He was everything she hadn't known she wanted and with him she found herself braver, almost fearless. Everything was going well. Until she spoke to Noah Puckerman. As happy as he could be, he'd told her how he and Sam had signed up for the military. How they'd been placed in the reserves but that the duo were hoping something more. Noah hadn't known that Sam had kept this fact a secret. He hadn't noticed how Mercedes' world crumbled under her feet. How could he? Noah had been blinded by his happiness. So after telling her his news, Noah Puckerman kissed her cheek and was on his way.

As luck would have it, Sam Evans proposed to her that night and he still hadn't told her his news. So Mercy refused. He'd cried, wondering why she'd refused after they had made such progress. She cried too, wondering how she could have let herself fall in love with him when the romance wouldn't last. He'd break her heart and he wouldn't even realize it. He left her house, convinced he'd asked her too soon and determined to make her his wife one day. In turn, Mercedes warned her best friends not to transfer any call and she never spoke to him again.

But he called, often too, and 'Tana and Tina and told her every time. He asked about her. He didn't know that she knew and she didn't know how to tell him she did

At work now, Mercy Jones washed the floors in the lobby of the Grand Hotel, not bothered by the guests. It had been weeks since she'd spoken to Sam. She missed him every day. Everything was dull without him there. Even her friends were strange, Santana more than Tina. She missed the days when everything had been simple.

"Miss Mercy Jones, is it?"

Mercedes looked up and frowned. The voice belonged to an old white man. He seemed friendly enough, with his kind smile and twinkling blue eyes. "And who's askin'?" You could never be too careful.

"Bobby Rainhart. I heard you at your _fiesta._ You sing very well."

Mercedes continued watching the floor, unconvinced. "Well, thank you I suppose."

"The Wisettes are talented and fun. I know the troops in Vietnam would enjoy a show." When he was certain he had her attention, Bobby Rainhart continued. "If you and your friends would like a contract for Vietnam, come to me. The three of you. I'll be staying at the hotel. You can easily get my number and when you call, we'll arrange a meeting."

Flattered but nervous Mercedes shook her head. "Sir, with all due respect I have school and I have-"

"Opportunities," interrupted Rainhart. "You have opportunities."

"I'm sorry to interrupt, Mercy, but you have a call. It seems urgent," called Joe from the front desk. He waved the phone frantically at her.

Smiling apologetically at the old man, Mercedes ran to take the call. "Hello?" she said.

"Mercy?" The voice was unmistakable, even through the sniffling and the crying. "Mercy I am so sorry but I can't do this. I can't do this anymore and I don't know how to fix it. I don't think it can be fixed. Not ever. It's the only way that can make it stop."

"What are you talking about, 'Tana? What can't be fixed?" Her voice came out sharper than she intended as Mercedes scribbled on a note pad. _Call police and paramedics, my address NOW_. Joe nodded and took another line.

"Me. I can't be fixed." Santana took a deep breath and gripped the phone tightly in her hands. "I needed to tell you that it's not your fault and I love you and you need to marry that Trout. I was so lucky to have you and Tina. Y-You're everything to me. I love you both. Don't be angry please. Don't ever be angry at me. It needs to be done."

"Santana, whatever you're about to do, don't. We can fix it. You, me and Tina. We can fix it together," said Mercedes, panicking.

"There's no other way. I'm sorry." With that said, Santana hung up.

She'd never driven so fast. Her mind a haze, she barely registered her actions. Some part of her knew that she had to get home as quickly as she could if she wanted to see her best friend again. At the house, a police car was parked, lights blinding. In the driveway was an ambulance. Their neighbours had gathered around outside to watch the scene. Mercedes pushed past them and ran to the paramedics, ignoring the police officers who told her to step back.

"Is she going to be okay?" Mercedes asked the paramedics as they lifted Santana into the ambulance. From where she was standing, her friend was pale and lifeless.

"We'll do everything we can." answered one of them.

They were gone before she could formulate a coherent response. All she knew was that her best friend, her sister, was dying. Somehow she managed her way to the hospital. There she met Tina, who'd been told what had happened by one of the neighbours. Neither girls knew why things had turned out the way they did. Neither girls knew what had pushed Santana over the edge and both girls blamed themselves for not addressing her strange behaviour beforehand.

Mercedes felt the her knees weakness as they pushed Santana into the operation room. The voices around her were muffled by the ringing in her ears. There was a coldness in the air that had her feeling numb. Beside her, Tina crumbled to the ground, crying. Mercedes fell beside her, pulling her friend into her arms. They held each other as they cried.

Eventually, after what seemed like years, the doctors informed them that Santana had attempted to overdose on barbiturates but was going to be okay. She was going to live and hopefully live well, but that a psychiatric evaluation couldn't hurt. The girls couldn't think about that, not when their friend and sister was alone in a strange room. The doctor sympathetically led them to Santana Lopez' room.

In her bed, surrounded by machines, Santana lay sickeningly pale sleeping. Pulling up a chair on each side of her bed, Mercedes and Tina sat, resting their head on the bed and holding Santana's hand tightly in theirs. The two drifted off into a light and troubled sleep, fear and exhaustion finally catching up.

A wail that had the hairs on the back of her neck stand up woke Mercedes and Tina from their nap hours later and had them rushing to calm Santana. It was no use though. The girl was screaming, her eyes filled with tears and Mercedes, for the first time in her life, had no idea how to fix it. So she held her friend in her arms, hugging her tighter than she had ever hugged a person before and she cried with her.

"No, no no!" shrieked Santana, through tears. "I'm not supposed to be here." Her voice was filled with sincere despair. "I'm not supposed to be here." She repeated, weakening.

A nurse poked her head in the room, curious. "Is everything all right here, girls? Do you need Dr. Lewis?"

Mercedes shook her head as Santana calmed down. "We'll be fine for now."

The nurse nodded and left.

"Why'd you do this, 'Tana?" Tina finally spoke, her voice hoarse.

There was a long pause before Santana spoke. She licked her lips and chuckled darkly. "I fell in love, Tina," she answered finally.

"That's good, isn't it?" asked Mercedes slowly, glancing at Tina with her brows raised.

There was another pause before Santana continued. "I fell in love with a girl." Silence followed her admission.

"Did you think we would stop loving you?" asked Mercedes after what seemed an eternity.

"I don't know." The tears were flowing freely again. "I'm just so... there's something wrong with me. There's-"

"No," Tina interrupted sharply. "There is absolutely nothing wrong with you."

"I'm a lesbian. I'm a Latina. I'm a woman. Where am I going to be accepted? Who is going to love me? _Ay dios mio_. Who is going to love me?"

**.**

"Sammy boy, this time next week we'll be 'Nam. Fighting the great war." Noah rubbed his hands together in anticipation and they strolled down Main street. "The women, my boy, they love a man in a uniform. Let me tell you, when we're back we'll have a dozen waiting to take care of us and to love us."

Sam rolled his eyes, not as excited as he once had been. He'd only enrolled in the military because he needed a way out if he flunked out of college – which he was certain was a matter of time. He had never been too good with numbers and letters. They always got mixed up in his mind. He was good, but good enough. "I don't care about the women." He said lamely.

To his credit, Noah looked at him and sighed. "I know you love her. Maybe she'll come see you off next week."

"She won't." Sam said with certainty.

"You never told her!" Noah's eyes widened, suddenly feeling guilty. But he hadn't known. He thought that Sam, who had always been so honest and forthcoming, would have told his Mercy.

"I didn't know how. And I'll never get a chance to tell her. I just need to tell her I love her one last time." He hated himself for not saying anything. "I should have told her when I had the chance."

"Mercy's always been full of surprises. Maybe she'll come around." said Noah hopefully.

"In a week? I don't think so." They continued their walk in silence, both silently hoping that Mercy would see Sam off.

**.**

"You're not a wise girl, Mercy. Not anymore. Neither of us are." Santana laughed weakly and turned on her side to face Mercedes. Nearly twenty-four hours had passed and though she was still pale, there was progress in Santana's health. "We should be called Tina and The Cowards, not the Wisettes."

Mercedes rubbed her eyes and sighed. They were alone, Tina having left to sleep. The two would take turns, never leaving Santana alone longer than a half hour. "How did things ever get so... confusing?"

"You made them complicated," answered Santana. "I told you to be a wise girl, Mercy. I told you to to be cautious."

"And I was cautious." Her voice trembling, Mercedes stood. She'd seen the change in Santana's eyes. The one that told her the conversation was taking a turn she wouldn't quite appreciate.

Santana scoffed. "You were stupid was what you were."

"This isn't the time to talk this. You're in the hospital." said Mercedes, her voice accusing. "After _you_ tried to kill yourself."

"I did. I did try to kill myself and by some horrid twist of fate I woke up in this damned bed, so you're going to listen to me while you still can." Santana pushed herself into a sitting position and glared at her friend. "That boy loves you. Hell, there's not even a word to describe what he feels for you. Every week he calls. Every week you leave him sittin' alone in a restaurant. Now, I don't know what on earth possessed him to keep at it, but he does. He still calls even after you break his heart."

"Santana-"

"Don't you dare interrupt me while I'm on my death bed." Santana breathed in sharply.

"You're not dyin', 'Tana."

"No but I damn well should be." Santana said. "I told you to be cautious so that your heart doesn't get shattered. I didn't tell you to push away the only man who's ever loved you." She softened and beckoned Mercedes toward her. Taking her friend's hand and kissing the back of it, Santana continued. "Look, it's not perfect and it won't be easy... but it's good and it's right. So just try."

Mercedes sniffed and stepped back. "Like you tried, 'Tana? Jesus, I'd kill you now if I didn't know that's what you wanted. What did you think? That you could just leave us? I love you. You are my sister. I can't lose you."

Santana blinked back tears and and nodded. "I know. I love you too, but this is bigger than that. I just- I don't..." She wrung her hands, searching for words. "I'll never be happy. There'll always be a part of me that's not accepted. I don't think I'm strong enough."

"You are Santana Lopez. You're the strongest person I know." Mercedes sat on the edge of the bed. "Honey, did you ever think when we were kids that we would be able to go to university with the white folk? D'you ever think that people like us would be able to use their toilets, their hospitals? Look at us now. I know it won't be easy. People will be downright awful. They'll be hateful and they'll be ignorant. But you gotta hold on, just in case. It's going to change. It has to. And you need to be there when it does."

"But I-"

"You need to be there when it does," repeated Mercedes, wiping the tears that had spilled onto her cheeks. "I don't ever want to be scared like this again. Not until were old and wrinkled. So you best put it in your head that I love you and I am not letting you go easily. I'll keep bringing you back. Even if you hate me for it." She sniffled and stood, forcing a smile. "Now, some good news. I wanted to tell you earlier. When you called me last night I was talking with a man I'd just met. He'd heard us sing at the _fiesta_. We're good, 'Tana. He thought we could bring a little joy in Vietnam."

"I don't understand,"

"He wants us to sing for the troops, 'Tana." Mercedes smiled genuinely at Santana's expression of joy. "So you get better, because we're going to Vietnam." She kissed the top of Santana's head. "I have to go but Tina will be here in a bit. I love you. I need you."

As Mercedes left the hospital, Santana leaned back into her bed. A weight had been lifted off her shoulders when she'd admitted her sexuality, but she hadn't had much hope left regardless of that fact. Now, she saw opportunities she never thought would ever exist. Most importantly, she had the support she'd been terrified she would loose.

**. **

Sam was a damned fool. He was going to hell for more reasons than he cared to admit. He felt guilty that he wasn't as ashamed as he should be. They said that the road to hell was paved with good intentions. Well, his was paved with unchristian fun. He didn't regret a thing. But he was a damned fool.

A damned fool in love. A young southern man like him should have been out on a date with a pretty young thing. He should have had his fingers crossed behind his back, hoping he'd end up in his date's bed. _Her _bed because he'd never been one to bring women home. Toss in the fact that he was staying with his great-aunt. No way was he getting frisky with her in the next room.

Sam Evans was a damn fool in love because instead of being with one of those girls, he was sitting in a restaurant eating a plate of spaghetti. Alone.

Over the weeks, he'd become close acquaintances with the waiters at the small restaurant. They saw him every Friday and he always ordered for two even though no one ever joined him. When he was finished eating, he always waited twenty minutes before sighing, asking them to put the other meal in a doggy bag and leaving.

Kurt, one of the waiters, felt bad for him every time. Today was no exception.

"Don't take this the wrong way, Sam." He started, sitting in the vacant seat before him. "I just don't think she's ever going to come."

"She will," said Sam. Every week was the same thing. Kurt would try to convince him to move on, and Sam would refuse. This was, however, the first time he started doubting that she would. "She has to."

"It's been weeks. Don't get me wrong, I love seeing you here. Just not like this." Kurt sighed. "Look, I know she's amazing. You've told me so much about her, I feel like we've already met. But we need to face the facts. The cold hard facts of life. She doesn't like you like that. And you keep coming every week hoping that she'll change her mind. You're hurting yourself. It's time to move on."

Sam pushed his plate away and rested his head in his hands. "I know. I really thought that she was the one. She still feels like one."

"They always feel like the one." said Kurt sympathetically. "And then there's always another to take their place."

"Every Monday morning I call her and leave a message with one of her roommates. Every Monday morning, without fail." Sam laughed at himself, but there was no humour in his eyes when he looked at Kurt. "And every Friday I eat here. Alone."

Kurt stood and patted his shoulder in support. "Do you want me to put her meal in a doggy bag?" he asked.

Sam stared hard at the plate he'd ordered for Mercedes. "Not today, Kurt." He pulled thirty dollars from his pocket and pushed it into the boy's hand before standing. "Thanks."

Kurt nodded sadly before making his way to the kitchen. He along with the rest of the staff had hoped the mystery woman would change her mind. Then, along the way, Kurt had begun to wonder if she existed at all. He glanced over his shoulder to look at Sam one last time and was surprised to see a pretty black girl entering the restaurant and heading towards him. Kurt smiled at the sight, recognizing her from Sam's description. After so many week, she finally came.

"Sam?"

His heart skipped a beat as Sam turned to face the person. It skipped more than a beat. He was certain it had stopped for a full minute because surely this couldn't be real and the woman in front of him could not be the woman he'd been hoping to see walk through those doors. She couldn't really be the one. "Mercedes?"

She smiled tentatively. "I needed to talk to someone." she whispered. Her eyes were red and swollen, liked she'd cried more than her fair share of tears. "And you're the first person I found that I know." she went on. Her voice was stronger now. She met his unblinking gaze.

When he didn't answer, an expression of mortification crossed her face. "I am so sorry. After everything I've done to you-"

"I never thought you'd come." he interrupted, his voice barely more than a murmur.

"I know." Her eyes filled with tears and she brushed them away hastily.

"Why did you?"

"I told you. I needed to talk to someone." She started impatiently, then caught herself. In a softer voice she continued. "I wanted that person to be you."

"Why?"

"Because I l-" she caught herself and smiled sadly. "Because I love you."

He reached to touch her cheek and stopped himself. She looked exhausted and heartbroken. "Let me drive you home," was all he said.

They reached her house in a matter of minutes. Neither had spoken during the ride, and still neither spoke as they walked up her drive way. It was only as she fumbled with her keys that Mercedes dared speak. "Can you stay?" she asked. Sam nodded and followed her inside, where he took off his shoes and in turn followed her into her bedroom.

"What's wrong, Mercedes?" he asked finally.

She sat on her bed and shook her head. "Santana is in the hospital. Other than that, I don't know where to start," she whispered.

"Anywhere." Sam sat next to her and clasped his hands together to keep from touching her.

"Well, first of all, I love you. I know that I haven't shown it very well but I'm scared." she said quickly. "You're the only who could_ really _hurt me. I don't want to be hurt." Sam tried to speak but she held up a hand, silencing him. "But I don't want to be without you either. I came every Friday and every Friday I left as soon I reached the door... because I know and I'm scared."

Sam nodded, understanding and let out a shaky breath. He should have known that the news would somehow get to her. Noah was their mutual friend. He would have told her he'd joined the army. "Is that why you stopped seeing me?" he asked, though he already knew the answer.

"If you die while you're out fighting in Vietnam then what am I going to do?" asked Mercedes. "I knew when we first met that you were going to be trouble. I fell in love with you. That makes me a damned fool and I had hoped that stayin' away from you would fix that but it only made it worse. I don't want to love you, Sam."

"But you do."

In answer, she shifted so that she could straddle him. "I do." She pressed a firm kiss to his mouth. "We're going to make a deal, okay?" she asked, looking into his green eyes. "You're going to leave with Noah next week and you are going to go to work. And you're going to come back and when you do..." she kissed him again. "I'm going to marry you. So don't you die on me, Sam Evans. Don't you dare die on me."

His heart swelled at her words and he pulled her in his arms, hugging her tightly. "What made you change you're mind?" he asked.

"You could say that 'Tana knocked some sense into me."

"Thank her for me, will ya?" he asked, pulling back. "Mercy Jones, I promise I am going to come back and marry you."

"Sam Evans, I promise that I will wait for you as long as it takes." Mercedes smiled softly. For tonight, she want him for herself. She wanted the comfort of being with the only man she ever had the courage to love.

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><p><strong><em>Reviews would be lovely. I know I lost the... style of the other chapters. I guess that's what happens when you don't update for a year. I'll probably make adjustments to the chapter because of that, and I FOR CERTAIN will try to write the next chapter the same style as the previous ones.<em>**


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